Lover Beware

“Right. ’Nuff said. So who was the idiot who leaked classified information to the press?” She turned her attention to Armstrong.
    He frowned. “Why the hell are you lookin’ at me?”
    “Because you look like the kind of idiot who would do such a thing.”
    His mouth dropped open and his face flushed.
    “So what, exactly, did your snitch leak to the press about the killings?”
    Donovan’s mouth flattened and his face became hard as stone. “Obviously the decapitation, evisceration, and the binding of the hands and feet—which were obvious to the witnesses who discovered the victims. The UNSUB cut out their hearts and placed it in the cavity of what was left of their uteruses. Among less gruesome tactics, this information was not made public knowledge…until Carla Simpson, the hooker who was killed before Laura. At that time, somehow, this information was leaked to the press.”
    “For a price, I assume.” Anna shook her head and looked Donovan straight in his blue eyes. “Find out who’s recently bought himself a BMW and you’ll find your snitch.”
    She flipped through the reports again. “You’re going to continue to grill Tyron Johnson, right? As well as this Marcus DiAngelo character. What else have you got on Johnson?”
    Jerry leaned back in his chair. “High school dropout. Dumb as a box of rocks. He’s mean as a snake, but his girls stand by their belief that he’s not a killer.”
    “Could be they’re scared of him—of retaliation.”
    “I suspect those girls would spill their guts if they thought he was butchering his own,” Killroy said.
    “Maybe.” Anna shoved back her chair and stood. “I need time to go over these files. Alone. Do you gentlemen have a problem with that?”
    Jerry stood and moved around the table. “I have an office you can use.”
    She collected the files and tucked them under her arm, didn’t so much as give the glaring detectives a second glance as she moved to the door. Jerry caught up to her in the hallway, took hold of her arm, and turned her to face him.
    “Attitude isn’t going to win you any friends around here, Anna.”
    “I’m not here to make friends, Jerry. I’m here to do a job. But as long as you want to bring up attitude, I can certainly do without yours.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “The hump you’ve got on for me, that’s what. Get over it, Jerry. I have.”
    She turned away. He grabbed her arm again.
    “Hey, I had no intention of digging up our past—no point—not here—but since you have, let’s get something straight, Anna. You got over it damn easy because you were the one who walked away. Not me. I think my so-called hump is pretty damn justified.”
    Anna looked down at the grip he had on her arm, then back into his eyes. “It’s history,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “We’ve both got on with our lives—”
    “Maybe you have. You weren’t the one who was practically abandoned at the altar.”
    “If my future had been left up to you I’d have six kids hanging off my arms and legs and another one in the oven.”
    His mouth flattened. “People change, Anna.”
    “Do they? Then why did I get a gut feeling that you were getting some kind of perverse pleasure over those guys’ behavior toward me?”
    “What did you expect, that they would appreciate the fact that you questioned their abilities to rightly judge this case and the evidence?”
    “If you didn’t question it yourself you would never have contacted the agency for help. Right or wrong? Or maybe it goes beyond that. Maybe you didn’t want the agency involved at all. Maybe you’re getting pressure from above. Governor Damascus breathing down your neck, Jerry?” She glared at him, then nodded. “Figured as much. No doubt he’s playing the grieving grandfather, right? Might win him a few sympathy votes in the next election. From my understanding, he’s going to need them. The bastard is going down in Louisiana’s record books as one of the most unpopular governors in the state’s history…and that’s saying a lot.
    “I know exactly where Charles Damascus is coming from. He can’t have this sordid publicity hurting the tourist business so he’s leaning on you to clean it up, and fast. So you go through the motions. Call Quantico, but not for anything more than an advisory. If you really gave a damn about solving this case in an expedient manner, you would have handed it over to the agency completely. But that